


A Certain Point of View

by Cameron_McKell



Series: Upon Further Review [1]
Category: Tron (Movies), Tron - All Media Types, Tron: Legacy (2010)
Genre: Fridge Horror - Literally, M/M, Tron Fandom Ship Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-19
Updated: 2013-09-19
Packaged: 2017-12-27 01:19:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/972640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cameron_McKell/pseuds/Cameron_McKell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tron misunderstands. Badly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Certain Point of View

“Just let me grab a few things and we'll go, okay? Feel free to look around.”

 

Tron nodded distractedly, eyes open wide to try and take in everything he saw; Sam smiled to himself, then gave the program a quick peck, and hurried for the ladder to the upper levels of the converted shipping containers.

 

Just mic- _minutes_ into his second visit to the User world, and already Tron felt near to crashing; the textures, lighting, _everything_ was so different but similar, that he kept recalibrating and refocusing his various inputs just to make sure he wasn't glitching. Half of his inputs and outputs were currently superfluous, though; he appeared so far to be unable to connect with the User system as he did on the Grid. The lack of incoming data to corroborate what he _could_ gather left that gathered data suspect, or potentially fabricated.

 

Was this what Flynn had referred to so long ago as a 'dream'?

 

There was something to his left, rectangular with two hinged doors; he'd never understood Flynn's preference for doors that swung about on hinges, when they could be designed to slide into the walls, derez altogether, or simply be omitted, but apparently it was a common User fixation. At least Sam showed some sensibility in upgrading his origin folder's doors to slide up and become part of the ceiling; the logistical calculations of using those doors frequently, were they to swing open inward _or_ outward, was not favorable, at all.

 

His architectural evaluations took him back to the strange rectangular _thing,_ and he walked over to further inspect it. With the minute resistance of a small pressure differential, it opened, and he examined the interior's – was it some sort of storage container? – contents.

 

Containers of wildly differing sizes were arranged over shelves; his first calculation was that at least some of them might be energy, but the different, conflicting colors covering each of them left him wary to investigate further, in the event that his inexpert handling destabilized one of the containers. The largest one was user-white marked with damage-red, and something so deadly attached to that much power was worrying.

 

What was _more_ worrying, however, was when he discovered the irregularly shaped sphere in varying shades of yellow-green, like a virus.

 

Rapidly, he closed the door on what was clearly some form of quarantine cell, and took three steps away to keep from getting infected by the virus. There was a muffled bang from above, and the sound of distant cursing, and Tron smiled; he couldn't begin to estimate what Sam had planned for them to do, but he was looking forward to learning about this strange, unreal world with the User.

 

His attention wandered, until it landed on a series of silver canisters in progressively smaller sizes. These seemed ordinary enough, though he was curious as to why they were arranged as they were, and so near to the quarantine cell. He ran calculations, trying to assess the possibility of cascade failure or other catastrophic consequences of further investigation. Sam had invited him to explore the space, and timidity was generally not in Tron's skill set, so he touched, and then carefully lifted the smallest canister; he might not be timid, but it was only practical to investigate starting with the canister that would do the least damage if it turned out to secretly be as hazardous as that white and red container.

 

Nothing happened, and once again Tron wished he could read and scan items at a touch here like he could on the Grid; perhaps another compatibility upgrade was needed? He scripted a reminder to ask Sam about that later, then tipped the canister this way and that thoughtfully.

 

Eventually, he tipped it too far, and the canister opened, spilling white voxels over the countertop and floor.

 

… White _voxels._

 

Tron set the canister down blindly, unable and unwilling to pull his gaze away from the partial remains of a program – the volume of voxels was insufficient for a complete program –  that Sam was storing in his house.

 

He made a strangled, purring sort of noise in distress, trying to think of some explanation for this.

 

“You doing okay down there?” Sam called down in concern at the sound he'd heard from Tron before. Had he found his laptop or something?

 

“Yes!” Tron answered hastily, only partially succeeding in modulating his tone. Finally, he managed to look away, toward the other, bigger silver canisters. He reached for the next smallest canister and dumped it out without fanfare.

 

… Well, now he knew where the rest of the white program went.

 

He was just reaching for the next container – the second to last – when a heavy bundle was dropped from the upper level with a soft 'thump', followed quickly by Sam himself.

 

Sam glanced around briefly then, when he didn't see Tron immediately, bent down to pick up what he'd gathered from upstairs, “Where did you go?”

 

Tron peeked into the canister's interior, and saw through the shadows what looked like _black voxels.._. “I'm here,” he replied faintly, processors shifting into overdrive.

 

Judging by the direction the voice had come from... “You're in the kitchen,” Sam announced, then turned the corner into the kitchen space, arms full of supplies for their first User-world date.

 

Kitchen. Tron had heard of that word before; it described the space Users stored and consumed 'food', which they used instead of energy. Once again, his gaze was drawn back to the mess of voxels at his feet, then he looked up when Sam came into view. He was carrying a bundle wrapped in gray cloth – hooded and soft looking – with a black helmet perched on top.

 

“An alpha and a Sentry?” Tron concluded out loud, and dropped the canister he'd still been holding. Why hadn't the helmet derezzed yet?

 

“Huh?” Sam was confused. Tron was standing by the counter, a pile of salt or sugar – and now, instant coffee – at his feet, and an utterly _horrified_ look on his face. “What are you doing?” Now that he thought about it...

 

Tron ran.

 

… the grains of sugar/salt/coffee kind of looked like voxels.

 

“Crap.”

 

Sam dropped his bundle, and ran after him.

 

“Tron! Tron, _wait!_ It's not what you think!”


End file.
